Free The Girlfriend Contract by Lucy Lambert Page A

year about their own opinions on friendship between men and women. Gwen let herself get pulled into it, grateful for the chance to think about something that didn't involve Aiden Manning, something from before he entered her life.
    Beatrice insisted that it wasn't possible. That every single guy she'd ever met who wasn't related to her was a potential partner in love, and that those types of thoughts were never far from her mind when she was around men.
    Gwen disagreed with Billy Crystal and Beatrice both, citing many friendships she'd had with guys throughout school and her various jobs.
    "Sure," Beatrice said, on her third glass of vodka. They'd be going for the bottle in the freezer soon, at this rate, " You thought about them like that. But I'll bet all of them felt differently. Oh, Gwen, you're so the girl next door type. Every last one of those boys wanted you, and bad, or I'm the Queen of England."
    "Your majesty," Gwen said, bowing as much as she could while sitting down.
    "Just thinking about all those poor, broken hearts makes me sad. And what makes it worse is that you didn't even recognize it," B said, slurring a little. She'd had at least twice as much as Gwen at this point. "Friend zoned without evening knowing it. Those poor boys..."
    This conversation wasn't going the way Gwen hoped. All this talk about unreciprocated (unrequited, even) love and affection ate at her, made her again think about what Aiden told her. That he didn't share her initial interest. That she wasn't even his type.
    Maybe it was because of the alcohol, but Gwen couldn't stop her thoughts from spiraling down into that storm. Not his kind of girl? Well, she could admit that she wasn't a model or movie star, but it wasn't like men woofed and barked at her when she walked by.
    "Men are the worst," Gwen said. She regretted drinking, then. She couldn't stop thinking about him and those things he said.
    "Tell me about it! I've already gone through Mr. Number Four. Four rich men, and not one of them willing to follow through, can you believe it?"
    "And Aiden is the worst of them all..." Gwen started, then someone knocked on the door, "Speak of the devil!"
    She sprang from her seat, nearly upending the coffee table on which sat their alcohol and the now hours-cold strong black tea.
    Beatrice followed her out, mumbling something about giving that jerk a piece of her mind.
    But of course it wasn't Aiden standing at the door when Gwen opened it, as she realized it wouldn't be just as she got there. No, it was a tall, gangly teenager in a brown shirt one size too big and wearing a matching brown baseball cap with Express Courier stitched into it over his forehead.
    "Gwen Browning?" he said.
    Gwen put one hand on the door frame to steady herself. That sudden rush for the door left her dizzy and lightheaded. Definitely too much vodka, she thought. "Yes. I mean, that's me."
    He handed her a large manila envelope, the kind closed with a bit of string wrapped around a small hook. "Thanks," she said, starting to close the door. This was going to have to wait until tomorrow.
    But the courier didn't leave. "Umm, Miss Browning? I'm supposed to return that to Mr. Manning tonight."
    She frowned at him. Or at least, she hoped it was a frown. The alcohol started to numb her, so she couldn't be quite certain of her exact expression on her face. The courier smiled politely, clearly aware of her inebriation but doing his best not to mention it.
    "Just give me a few minutes," Gwen said. Then she did close the door. She went into her room and put the folder down on the desk, then carefully sat down in her chair.
    Beatrice followed her in. "Manning? As in Aiden Manning? What'd he send you? Is that paperwork?"
    She couldn't just hide the folder away. Not with the courier waiting outside her door. Besides, Beatrice had the annoying habit of remembering things, no matter how drunk she got. She would ask questions, being nosy like she was.
    Trying to dispel suspicion, Gwen